


sparked up like a book of matches

by eviscerates



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, I haven't seen one rock band au for FFXV yet what the hell is wrong with this website, I'll do it myself ITS FINE ITS FINE, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 11:47:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eviscerates/pseuds/eviscerates
Summary: The Insomniacs book their first tour with the travelling rock festival, Livewire, thanks to their manager, Ignis. It's hard to hide what you're thinking cooped up in a tour bus, especially during the hottest summer on record.





	

**Author's Note:**

> the ffxv rock band basically warped tour au nobody asked for *flicks lights off and on* welcome to hell! welcome to hell! 
> 
> for clarification - the setting is exactly the same as the game setting, aka kingdom of lucis, magic and fantasy, noctis is the crown prince, with gladio and ignis as his retainers, etc., only there's no war, just implied lucis and niflheim aren't buddy buddy. but they arent murdering each other so.
> 
> if anyone was wondering how i imagined the music of the bands - the insomniacs are fall out boy, warp strike is panic at the disco and dragonlancer is halestorm.
> 
> i intended this to be a very long fic, but i've hit a real shit patch IRL so i wanted to post this since i don't know if i'll get back into the spirit of writing anytime soon. i hope i left it off at a good place.

**20 miles out from lestallum. june 14.**  
Load-in starts bright and early at 7:00 the first morning of Livewire. It's the worst thing Noctis can probably think of besides having to sleep in the same bed as Prompto the blanket-thief extrordinaire again. Ignis appears just as the last guitar makes it off the trailer with a cardboard cup of gas station coffee.

"Is that for me?" Noctis sounds as dead as he looks, pushing his damp bangs back from his sweaty forehead. They're on one of the smaller stages today, the noon time slot. Noctis prefers going on at night, when he has all day to wake up and avoid the scorching Lestallum sun as much as possible in the bus, but he can't complain. He's here, and it's a much better summer gig than hanging around the Citadel taking notes on trade agreements with his father.

"Black, extra strong. So yes," Ignis says, holding it out. "I thought you could use it. Everything make it in one piece?"

"I think Prompto needs to re-string his acoustic, but then we should be good." Noctis accepts the coffee gratefully, shotgunning half of it in one gulp. Unfortunately it doesn't wake him up in seconds. "How're you?"

"I'm well. Looking forward to the first stage. This is the first time we've played the full tour instead of one or two shows, so it's quite exciting."

Noctis squints against the sun streaming in through the windows of the bus Ignis has so cruelly opened. Ignis looks no more excited than he usually does - He only looks very awake, which Noctis finds offensive. He's dressed in his usual pair of slim black jeans and a black tshirt, black glasses perched on his sharp nose. He's a studded belt away from becoming a Hot Topic employee. Or a beret away from being an annoying beat poet, whichever's closest at hand. Most likely the belt, given Livewire's demographic.

"You're going to get heat stroke dressed like that," Noctis quips, chugging the rest of his coffee like it's the only thing keeping him alive, which it kind of is.

"Says the one whose entire wardrobe is black and gray," Ignis responds effortlessly, checking the time on his phone display. "Alright. I'm going to go see if Iris has the merchandise set up. Gates open in an hour." Ignis looks at him from over the top of his glasses and Noctis resists the urge to slither back under his covers. "Be ready."

"Is Gladio awake yet?"

Ignis shoots him a withering look. "You really need to ask?"

"Need help with that?" Anything involving Gladio is usually a two man job.

"No. If he's not up by the time I get back, he's going to wish he never went to bed last night," Ignis says grimly, although there's a devilish twinkle in his eye that nearly makes Noctis feel bad for Gladio. Ignis is a great manager—disciplined, organized, calm in the face of a panicked situation. And he tolerates their - Mostly Prompto's - shenanigans with minimal protest, so it's only fair that Ignis gets to even the score every once in a while.

"Don't hit him too hard. It'll be a long summer without a drummer."

 

 **lestallum. june 14.**  
The thermostat says it's 90° today. Noctis feels it, the stifling air of the trailers during load-in, the heaviness of the air backstage before someone's smart enough to go find a box fan to try and get some air circulating to keep everyone breathing and on their feet. The guitars won't hold their tuning in all that heat, either, no matter how many times Prompto kept coming offstage to swap out for something else, hands waving frantically to signal that it's gone flat again, man.

Afterwards, he's exhausted. Soaked through his t-shirt (black, he finds himself thinking back to Ignis' words and refuses to feel grumpy about it) and stinking like sweat from trying to play instrument Tetris in the trailer with the gear. He wants a shower. Desperately. Ignis informed them earlier they're all two nights away from a hotel and free to use the free-standing shower rigged to the back of the bus after Prompto complained for the eleventh time about being sweaty. It's tempting, but Noctis isn't really sure where the water's coming from, and he's not in the mood to be stripped naked in front of everyone _quite_ so soon.

He detours to the merch tent on his way back to the bus instead and meets up with Ignis, who's sitting with Iris and helping her inventory a huge plastic tub full of the band's two CDs - One LP and one EP. Iris's thumbing through the stack of shrink-wrapped jewel cases but she looks just as accosted by the heat; Her attention is clearly elsewhere on the row of tents and beyond where someone's about to take their turn on the skate ramp.

Noctis sits down in the grass next to Ignis's folding chair and sighs loudly. "Fuck," he mutters. "It's so fucking hot." When he looks up, Ignis's still flicking through CDs, counting under his breath, but he switches to counting one-handed so he can muss his fingers through Noctis's hair like he's been doing since they were so little. He's in his customary get-up, although today he's swapped the t-shirt out for a black tank top with a gray skull graphic underneath a light linen button up (unbuttoned, still black) and Noctis can see the shine of sweat on his collarbones and forehead.

"Forty-eight. Water's in the cooler under the table," he says after a minute, hand sliding down to rest on Noctis' shoulder. "I thought we had more copies of Omen than this. Iris? Where's the other crate?"

Noctis crawls forward like a dying man on a desert island and rolls the lid of the cooler up. He takes two water bottles out, hands one up to Ignis and puts the second one at the nape of his own neck. There's a moment where he's pretty convinced he just ascended into a more enlightened plane, but then there's condensation dribbling down his spine and further soaking his t-shirt and Ignis's leaning forward to jab Iris in the side with his water bottle.

"Ow! What?!" Iris sounds like a kicked puppy, whipping around. Her elbow misses Noctis's forehead by millimeters, and Noctis reaches out to shove her gently in retaliation.

"I said, where are the other copies of the first CD?" Ignis says patiently. The bottle's seal breaks with a loud _zip_. He tips his head back and empties a little water in his mouth, careful not to put his lips on the rim, even though it's a fresh bottle of water, and Noctis is momentarily distracted by the muscles in his jaw and neck.

Iris looks confused, then shocked, then terrified. "Oh - Ignis -"

"Iris."

"We hardly sell any of them, so I figured this would be enough for today and I could leave the rest in the trailer - They're so heavy... I was gonna ask you what to do, but then I got over here and I forgot, I'm really sorry -"

Ignis stops mid-waterfall, looking down over the tops of his glasses, and Iris is smart enough to jump several feet into the air and to the side as Noctis throws his water bottle cap with deadly precision where Iris's face was seconds before. Iris flails and clubs her knee on the underside of the table in her haste to get to safety.

"Ow! Noctis! I said I was sorry, that's not fair," Iris says, rubbing the wounded joint of her knee - But she does have the decency to look cowed.

"Fair? We do all the gear before and after every show by ourselves. You have to carry—"

"I know! I'm sorry. I just forgot. There's just so many boxes I lose track sometimes." Iris sits down on a box full of beanies with the band's name - _Insomniacs_ \- printed across them in white block letters. The beanies were Noctis' idea, the t-shirt's Ignis', the stickers and pins Prompto's, and Gladio contrinbuted the can coozies to the mix of merchandise strewn across the table.

"Just - Just ask next time, alright? If we run out of CDs, you're running back to the bus and carrying them back yourself if we're onstage. "

"If we run out of beer coozies your brother will kick your ass. You know how much he loves to upsell those things," Noctis added, though at least Iris knew _he_ was kidding, while the poor kid lived pretty much in fear of Ignis.

"Who's kicking your ass? Looks like I arrived just in time for the party."

Noctis looks up as Prompto's shadow falls on him. He looks like he managed to sweet-talk someone into letting him use a shower and Noctis is momentarily overwhelmed by the cloud of Old Spice body wash and whatever the fuck else, some perfumed shampoo marketed to the ladies. His blonde hair is perfectly styled and gelled, his black tank top and leather vest look washed, and his jeans artfully instead of accidentally ripped. He looks exactly like he's not trying at all, and that almost makes it worse and Noctis considers throwing his bottle cap at him too.

Gladio jogs up shortly after, looking ready to murder something, which he probably is considering the hangover he most likely has. "You used all of my body wash this morning," He starts with a growl, and Prompto's cool evaporates as he dives behind the merchandise table quicker than Noctis had ever seen him move.

"I didn't even know you were gonna take a shower!" Prompto's hiding behind Ignis and Ignis rolls his eyes, emitting a snort of laughter as he steps to the side, exposing Prompto to Gladio's fury.

"Well I guess I'm not now, am I?" Gladio looks like he's sizing Prompto up, but then sits down in Ignis' vacated chair with a sigh next to Noctis, holding a loose fist out in his direction. "Hey, Noct,"

Noctis returns the fist bump just as tiredly, fishing another bottle of water out and tossing it to him, eyes squinted against the sun as Gladio promptly pours half the bottle over his head. Not like it matters, as all he was wearing was a pair of low-slung black leather pants anyway, but it did catch the eye of several passerby, particularly the girls.

"Oooh! Hey, Gladio, keep doing that. Maybe people will come over here and buy our stuff."

Gladio turns his head and gives Prompto a _look_ that cows him into silence, going back to helping Iris arrange plastic sheets in their sticker binder.

"You two, don't squabble. It's hot enough without you two getting into a spat," Ignis sits in the chair opposite Noctis, rubbing the hand that was holding his water bottle across his neck under the collar of his shirt.

"What does the heat have to do with arguing?" Prompto pipes up, and this time it's Noctis who interjects, voice flat. "It's too hot to explain."

Gladio's laugh sets everyone else off, and despite the heat, soon they're all laughing. Even Ignis cracks a grin before telling them all to settle down, they have a show to prepare for.

 

 **tiber. june 17.**  
Bus call's not until 1:00AM, so after the trailer's packed up for the night's drive and the dinner things have been cleared away, Noctis pulls out Prompto's acoustic and sits out behind the bus, running his fingers along the strings, eyes focused on the puddle of water on the cracked asphalt in front of him.

Ignis has somehow made his way over without making any noise and sits down in the folding chair next to Noctis, offering a bottle of beer which Noctis declines. Ignis sets it on the ground next to the chair instead, cracking the top off his and exhaling, crossing one knee over the other. "I don't blame you. It tastes awful. But when in the Empire -"

Noctis looks over, a smirk ghosting at the corners of his lips. "Gladio drank all your wine?"

Ignis sighs, a resigned look crossing his angular face. "Gladio drank all my wine."

They get on the subject of music—like it's not enough that they've spent all week living and breathing it, they've got to fill their downtime with it, too. Prompto and Gladio arrive and start rehashing the old vinyl versus digital debate, which is going to drive Noctis fucking crazy if that's all they talk about for the rest of the summer, _again_. One of the bands they shared the stage with earlier, Warp Strike, shows up, the lead singer and guitarist, Nyx Ulric, armed with beer and soda cans. He offers Noctis a beer and Noctis takes a soda instead.

"Cheers." Ignis taps the neck of his bottle against Noctis' soda can.

"You know," Prompto says without making eye contact, too busy trying to watch the cherry-red tip of Nyx's cigarette to see the smoke rings he'd been blowing all night. "You've never let us hear any of your stuff, Noct. If it's good, maybe we can work some of it into the setlist."

"I'm good," Noctis says, suddenly stiff. He looks down at the guitar in his hands and his fingers curl around the neck. He doesn't even know how Prompto _knows_ he writes his own stuff and suddenly the mental image of Prompto snooping around his bunk while he sleeps comes to mind. He decides to booby trap it next time they share a room. Ignis is the only one he's shown any of his stuff to, the only one whose opinion really mattered since he wouldn't ever play it anyway.

"Who usually writes your stuff?" Nyx pipes up from across the circle of chairs, next to Libertus and Crowe, the brother-sister duo that rounds out his band who are currently in a heated argument over who makes better EDM, Lucis or Niflheim.

"Ignis, usually," Gladio answers, nodding and propping his elbows on his knees, taking a healthy drink of his beer. "He can read music and all that shit, compose stuff. The rest of us just kind of learned how to wing it. He writes the lyrics too, for the most part."

Nyx raises his eyebrows, clearly impressed. "Aren't you just their manager?"

Ignis leans back in his chair, having swapped his half-finished hated beer for a soda. "Yes."

Prompto pipes up, a little tipsy and giggling. "He's also Noct's like, what is it? Handmaiden? Butler? So he does everything. He even taught Noct how to compose, right? Read music?"

Noctis feels a faint headache prick behind his eyes as everyone's attention is turned on him. "...Advisor. He's not a butler, Prompto."

Ignis' eyes cut sideways to Noctis, sensing his discomfort, and he seamlessly takes the reins of the conversation. "Advisor, yes. I taught him to read and write music when he was young, among other things. Who writes for your band, Nyx?"

Noctis feels the eyes of the people surrounding him shift off him and he relaxes, letting out a slight breath and hands gently gripping the neck of the guitar. Ignis' hand moves to rest on his knee, and he leaves it there until the conversation dies down entirely.

 

 **nextris. june 19.**  
They get into Nextris early. It's a party city, famous for the saying _What happens in Nextris, stays in Nextris_. Prompto's supremely disappointed that they're not allowed to go hit up the casinos after their set and keeps whining about it to anyone who will listen. Noctis is more than relieved when Prompto stops bugging him and wanders off to bother a few of the girls that have been following them around at a distance with wide eyes. That's two of his problems solved.

Ignis looks fucking wiped. The dark circles under his rich green eyes make his face look even sharper than usual. He keeps taking ibuprofen every few hours for his headaches and has a water bottle practically attached to his hand - Being in the middle of the desert really isn't helping. Noctis can't do anything about the exhaustion, but he sneaks off to the refreshment tent and snags a few cans of Ebony, still cold and dripping with condensation.

"Here," he says, tucking the extra can of iced coffee into Ignis' pocket.

Ignis' tired expression softens and he smiles, cracking the pop-tab and taking a long drink, resting back against the wall he's standing in front of. "You didn't have to do that."

"You look like shit." Noctis replies, crossing his arms and taking up a spot against the wall next to Ignis.

Ignis' eyebrows raise, but his mouth quirks, just barely. "Thanks," He says dryly, taking another swig from the can in his hand.

Noctis glances off to the side, the sharp knot of worry in his stomach disappating somewhat. If Ignis is being sarcastic to him, he can't feel as bad as he looks.

"Are you getting any sleep?" Noctis' hooded eyes are hidden behind his thick bangs, but he looks up at Ignis anyway, focusing on the shifting neon lights reflecting off his glasses.

"I could ask you the same thing," Ignis responds, leaning his head back against the wall and tilting his face up to catch the rare breeze, a gift from the astrals in the middle of the desert.

"I'm fine. Just don't run yourself ragged, Iggy."

The use of his nickname causes Ignis to turn his face to Noctis, and his eyes look much less tired. He reaches a hand up, softly tucking Noctis' damp hair behind his ear, his hand lingering on his liege's chin. "I won't, highness. Don't worry about me."

Noctis' head feels light and his knees a little weak, but before he can respond Prompto bursts out of the shadows to drag him back to the merch tent, begging for his presence at an impromptu autograph signing. Noctis glances over his shoulder and Ignis is watching him go, eyes unreadable behind the reflections in his glasses.

 

 **rubicon valley. june 20.**  
"It's going good out there," Ignis shouts over the roar of the crowd as Noctis runs backstage during a lull between songs, exchanging his bass for its differently tuned brother.

Ignis helps him ease the strap over his head, straightening Noctis' shirt as Prompto practically crashes into them both, yelping. "Sorry! Sorry, wow, some crowd, huh?"

Ignis nods, exchanging the same _Prompto_ look with Noctis that they're all too familiar with. "They're really feeling it, from the sound of it."

Prompto nods, bouncing on the balls of his feet and easing his own guitar back over his head. The kid has energy, Noctis will give him that - He'd consider stabbing himself with one of Gladio's drumsticks if he had to pump up a crowd like he does. Prompto isn't the lead singer for nothing, he supposes.

"What's goin' on back here? Family meeting?" Gladio pokes his head between the curtains and Prompto whips out his phone, frantically unlocking it before Gladio raises his eyebrows and begins his protests. "No. No, kid, put that away."

He's opening up the camera app before Noctis can open his mouth to protest, and Noctis briefly has an urge to knock his phone out of his hands. It's been three days since any of them had a real shower, and he's pretty sure the backwards snapback on his head is only still there because of the sticking power of the grease in his hair holding it securely to his skull. He thinks he must smell awful, though Ignis hasn't complained once, and he's the one that gets the closest to him - Doing his eyeliner and hair in the mornings.

Ignis looks the least ragged out of all of them, though he ran out of hair gel a few days back his warm blonde hair lays flat on his head, pushed back instead of up in his usual style. Noctis is distracted from Gladio and Prompto fighting over his phone to look over the shiny sheen of sweat on Ignis' neck and the way his t-shirt sticks to his collarbones and how he keeps raising a lean arm to wipe the perspiration from his forehead -

"Come on, group up! Let's get a picture before we go back onstage!" Prompto squishes himself in front of Noctis and Ignis, holding his phone at an angle to catch Gladio in the very back of the narrow frame. "Say 'Guitar solo'!"

After the show when Noctis bothers to open Snapchat, he sees the picture. In it, Prompto is front and center, throwing up a peace sign and grinning despite the heat. Gladio is in the back with his elbows propped on Noctis' shoulders, smiling a closed-mouth smile as he gives Noctis bunny ears. Noctis is right behind Prompto, his face mostly hidden behind his hand firmly displaying a middle finger to the viewers. Beside Noctis is Ignis - One arm around Noctis' shoulders and caught mid-laugh, crinkled green eyes not focused on the camera but on Noctis.

 

 **corinth. june 21.**  
It's long past when they'd normally be in bed and on the road, but the shows in this stretch of desert are all close enough together that round-up doesn't happen until one in the morning. Nyx procures an entire case of decent beer from only gods know where and brings it out to the circle of lawn chairs out behind the bus, bringing up shouts of _"Nyx the hero!_ " from every folding chair.

As the moon rose higher in the sky over the flat sand the conversation got louder and the beer flowed more freely and Noctis found himself able to drift away from the circle of chairs set up between the Insomniacs' and Warp Strike's buses.

He sits down on a small outcropping of rock overhanging a slope of sand, face tilted to the cool desert night wind, letting the distant sounds of chatter and guitars wash over him.

"I see we both had the same idea." Ignis' voice comes from behind him, and Noctis turns around, startled.

"I can leave if you want privacy. This was just my first thought to..." He trails off, his glasses glinting in the moonlight.

"...To get away?" Noctis finishes for him, and shifts, making room next to him on the blanket he'd brought out to sit on.

"Precisely." Ignis lowers himself down beside him, letting a sigh escape his lungs.

He sounds tired, and looks it too, though not as haggard as he was back in Nestrix. Maybe he was actually listening to Noctis' advice - Then again, he could have taken it as an order from his liege and had no choice in disobeying. But Noctis knew him well enough to know he'd understood he meant it as a gesture of friendship, however clumsily it was given. That was just Noctis.

"You been sleeping?" He asks anyway, just to put his mind at ease. Ignis was always giving one hundred percent, running around taking care of everyone's issues and yelling at groupies that tried to get on their bus and keeping Gladio from breaking something in a barfight - He was their manager, yeah, but he was also their friend. His sense of duty was melded with a sense of care, and sometimes Noctis worried about him more than he probably should. When did he take care of his own problems?

"As well as I can. I took your advice and am trying to look after myself a bit more. I'm no used to anyone if I'm running on fumes."

Noctis' face falls, and he looks down at his lap, his fingers fidgeting with the frayed material of the one fingerless glove he wears. "That's not what I meant."

Ignis stops mid-shift in position, leaning back half on one hand and the other still hovering in the air. "Noctis - Noctis," His expression relaxes, and Noctis thinks his name in his accent is one of his favorite songs to hear. "I didn't think that's what you meant. But it's still true. I do need to take care of myself for a multitude of other reasons, though that one is the most important to me."

Noctis picks his head back up, his big blue eyes searching over Ignis' face through his thick bangs. "We don't just keep you around because we think you're useful." His tone is a little stubborn, hurt. Does Ignis really think of himself -

Ignis' soft laughter breaks though his thoughts and Noctis blinks, face scrunching up in annoyance. Is Ignis laughing at him?

"Where is all this coming from? I know you don't keep me around just because you think I'm useful. I may be your sworn chamberlain and hired manager, yes, but I'm also your friend, Noctis. What's gotten you worrying about this?"

Ignis must see the look in his eyes and the expression on his face because he opens his arm and Noctis, after a moment of hesitation, sinks against his side, head resting on his shoulder. Ignis is the only person he can stand most casual touches and extended companionship from - As far back as his memory goes, Ignis is there. They hadn't been apart for a few months at a time since Noctis was three years old and they first met, and even now at twenty, he still enjoys the soft touches of Ignis stroking his hair or his steady hand on his back when they walked.

A loud shout from the buses in the distance rouses Noctis out of his reverie, calmed as he was leaning against Ignis' leanly muscled arm. Ignis' arm loops around his shoulders, his hand rubbing Noctis' bare arm softly. "You're cold," Ignis sounds surprised, and he shifts away from Noctis just long enough to slip the black leather jacket he's wearing off his shoulders and onto Noctis. "There."

Noctis curls up just like he did when he was small, into Ignis' side, turning his face against his shoulder and closing his eyes. They all managed to shower before checking out of their motel, and Ignis smells like soap and aftershave and coffee and Noctis takes a deep breath, nestling further into the jacket. Ignis' arm winds closer around him and his second arm joins the first until both his arms are wrapped securely around Noctis, his cheek resting on his head.

Noctis thinks he could stay like this forever, warm and pressed against Ignis, on a cliff in the middle of the nowhere desert, and forget about all the responsbilities weighing him down. It was strange, that a living representation of the burden he would one day inherit was the one thing that made him feel free of them - But Ignis feels like warmth, like home.

He tilts his face back to catch the light of the stars and his nose brushes Ignis' cheek. They're so close he can hear the other's breathing - Slow and steady, but definitely hitching when Noctis' skin touches his own. Noctis' eyes are drawn to Ignis' profile in the stark moonlight, the razor-edges of his cheekbones and straight length of his nose, his eyelashes behind his glasses.

He's leaning in, driven by instinct, and then their lips meet.

Noctis feels Ignis stiffen against his touch, a small sound of surprise whistling from his lips. He almost draws back, almost feels the shame and guilt rise in his chest before Ignis is kissing him back, his hand softly resting against Noctis' cheek to keep him from separating their mouths.

Noctis feels himself relax against Ignis' touch, leaning further into the kiss. Sure, he's kissed people before - One or two, because he felt like he probably should before he turned eighteen - but those kisses were different. This kiss has warmth permeating through his chilled body, makes his toes curl and his body lean forward for more. His mind tells him _you're kissing your best friend_ as Ignis deepens the kiss, his fingers threading into Noctis' thick (clean) hair, and he can feel the want in Ignis' lips on his own. He feels it too.

"Ignis! Noctis, where are you? We gotta go!" Gladio's lightly slurred voice causes them to jump apart like they've been shocked.

"Bus call!" He hears Nyx shout, and the guitar music and laughing stops, replaced by the frantic shuffling of folding chairs and drunken feet.

Ignis is breathing harder than usual, his lips kiss-swollen and his cheeks flushed pink in the blue moonlight. Noctis imagines he looks much the same, and neither of them take their eyes off each other until Gladio shouts again, and Ignis calls back the affirmative that yes, they are coming, no, they are not passed out drunk or being eaten by cactaurs.

When Ignis stands up from the blanket he offers his hand, and Noctis takes it. He holds his hand all the way back until they reach the warm yellow taillights of the bus and separate, Ignis heading off to clean up the mess the group had left and Noctis onto the bus.

He doesn't take Ignis' jacket off.

 

 **stella. june 22.**  
They don't talk about it - Not yet.

There's no time, not when Prompto's amp blows a fuse half an hour before their set and Ignis almost drives himself apopleptic trying to borrow one off another band just for the afternoon. Noctis usually likes it better that way, when everyone's too wrapped up in the bustle of the show to sit down and shoot the shit - But he wishes now that just for a second, everything would stop moving so fast.

He manages to catch him running back and forth between stages and hauling equipment and presses four ibuprofen and a bottle of water into his hand. "I figured you'd need this."

Ignis' shoulders relax and his harried expression subdues, barely. He dry swallows the pills, holding the water bottle to his neck in favor of drinking it. "How'd you know?"

Noctis smiles, just a little, the smile only his friends ever really see. "You got that crease between your eyebrows. I know you only get that when you've got a migraine from hell."

Ignis lets out a huge breath, and Noctis can see at least some of the tension is gone. When Ignis thanks him, he reaches down and takes Noctis' hand, squeezing it. It's only for a moment, and then a roadie is calling him over to panic about which plug goes where and Noctis has to go back on for sound check. But it still happens.

 

 **hyperion. june 24.**  
They get a few nights off and Noctis spends the first sleeping a full eighteen hours. When he wakes up he feels a strange combination of half-dead and confused yet well-rested, and he spends another hour alternating between staring at the hotel wallpaper or playing King's Knight under several layers of blankets with the AC cranked to max.

He's roused by a knock on the door and refuses to get out of bed until he hears the crisply accented voice call through the wood. "Are you awake? We're going to get dinner if you want to come out with us."

Good natured squabbles over dinner are had until Noctis exits the debate by walking into a sushi restaurant, leaving his companions behind and ending the argument over what and where. Ignis sits next to him, their knees touching under the table as Prompto challenges Noctis to a chopstick duel Gladio threatens to break up by eating all their food if they didn't. When their arms brush, they don't move away from each other, but closer.

It might not have been discussed with words, but it was clear neither wanted to forget about it.

\--

Prompto manages to secure a date to the bars with Aranea Highwind - the tall, standoffish lead singer and guitarist for Dragonlancer, an alt-rock group from Niflheim - and practically skips from their hotel lobby with his arm around her waist, giving Noctis a thumbs up.

"Does he not remember that time she started a barfight during last year's Livewire and smashed a bottle over Gladio's head?" Ignis manages to sound both mystified and disappointed at the same time.

Gladio's squinting out the glass front door and clearly _he_ remembers, but he just grunts instead of saying anything too rude. "She elbowed him in the stomach so hard he blacked out, so no, he probably has amnesia about that whole thing."

Noctis snorts, absorbed in a battle in King's Knight in the hotel lobby, legs slung up into Ignis' lap on the surprisingly comfortable couch.

"I'm gonna go swim a few laps, that pool is too tempting to pass up. Either of you wanna come?" Gladio stands from the chair he'd been sunk into, stretching both arms over his head and letting out a contented sound.

"Hm, tempting - Possibly tomorrow. Bit too tired tonight." Ignis yawns almost on cue, much to the boys' amusement, and Noctis smiles behind his phone, nudging his foot against Ignis' ribs.

"Fair enough. Noct?"

Noctis shakes his head, not looking up from his battle. "Don't feel like it. I mean, I'm tired too, but I don't feel like it."

Gladio laughs his booming laugh and rolls his eyes, already heading for the pool. "Tell me how you really feel, your highness."

Ignis and Noctis remain on the couch in companionable silence before Ignis squeezes Noctis' ankles through his boots, shifting to rise. "I really am quite tired. I'm going to head up to my room to watch a movie - Care to join me?"

When staying in a hotel, the group almost always roomed two to two for money saving purposes, but since the past few days on the tour had seemed to be hellbent on kicking every one of their individual asses, Ignis had splurged with 'business funds' as he called it and got them all separate rooms.

"Yeah, sounds good," Noctis replies, pulling himself up from the couch and following Ignis to the elevator.

They get halfway up the elevator in silence before Ignis reaches out and takes Noctis' hand. They're into the hallway before Noctis shifts so close to Ignis his chest brushes his back with every step, and they make it all the way into Ignis' room before they're holding each other and kissing.

Noctis feels his knees hit Ignis' bed and allows himself to fall back, enjoying the weight of Ignis' body on top of his. There's no expectations with Ignis, no need to fill the silence or do something to impress him. There's just the two of them in the dark, on a hotel bed, arms and legs tangled up and mouths against each other.

"Noctis..." Ignis' voice is quiet against his jaw, and Noctis gasps a little when Ignis presses a kiss into the skin there.

He can hear the tone in Ignis' voice, the tone he always adopted when he was about to say something - Usually logical - he knew Noctis didn't want to hear.

So Noctis kisses him again, silencing him and pulling him closer, wrapping his arms tighter around his neck.

"No," is his only response as the kisses deepen, their legs tangling up together. He doesn't want to hear Ignis talk about how this is a bad idea because of both their stations or whatever it is he was about to say. "Just kiss me."

Ignis opens his mouth again, and before he can say anything Noctis quiets him with another kiss. Their tongues touch and Ignis melts - He actually melts against him, but he doesn't protest again. He shifts so they're laying side by side, close as they can be, and they kiss for what feels like hours. Ignis tastes like mint gum and late night coffee and his arms are strong and secure around him. The noises he makes against Noctis' mouth make him never want to leave this room, lit by moonlight and neon signs, sleepily pressing kiss after kiss onto Ignis' lips, jaw, neck, cheeks.

But they weren't lying when they'd told Gladio they were tired. They kiss as long as they can stay awake, their hands roaming under each others' shirts to grip hips and backs and stroke fingertips over clavicles and stomachs.

They fall asleep tangled together, shirts half-off and lips pressed close, city lights and faint rock music filtering in through the open window.


End file.
